The Case of the Running Bag - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

After Enlightenment, You Keep Working

On my way to the residential hotel, I had been watching my back the entire way
from the office. I'm sure I looked like a nut case. The Marlon’s Garden Apartments
were a step up in residential hotels. The rooms were studios with private baths. When I walked into the lobby and asked for a room, I could feel some hesitancy from the hotel clerk. When I ponied up a month's rent in advance, the clerk turned decidedly warmer. She had a
room on the second floor away from the street and the elevator. It had a view of the lobby which suited me fine. I signed in under my real name and declined the special services that the clerk eagerly suggested would be available.

I went up to the room and checked it out. Upon entering the "suite" there was an alcove on the right. It substituted for a kitchen. There was an icebox, a sink, and a hot plate on the counter. The flat was adequate in size, maybe sixteen by twenty feet. There was a Murphy bed on the long wall, with inexpensive armories on either side. A door at the end led to a bathroom. There was a window that overlooked the garden area. It had shades and a curtain. A small table for eating, and a couple of reasonable chairs for sitting. Additionally, there was a phone. In the "lobby" I noticed the PBX
next to the reception area. I wouldn't need to go out to make phone calls. The flat would do until I could figure out where I really wanted to live.

I examined the armories closely. I could create a false bottom under one of them that would survive close scrutiny. I'd stop at a nearby hardware store for the tools and supplies I would need. The table was large enough to serve as a simple desk. I would still use the office during the day. I needed a receptionist. The diner below the office had a job board. I would check that out. Maybe the people who worked in the diner could recommend someone. Neighborhood diners had a good
rep for knowing their clientele, they might be able to help me find someone reliable.

Since it was time to eat, I headed for the diner. I could get some food and check out the job board. I'd pick up the local gossip, and establish myself as an upstanding citizen. I thought about carrying the Colt with me. It was too bulky without some kind of holster, I decided against it. There was a pocket of sorts in the back of one of the armories, I concealed it there for the time being. I hung up and put what few clothes I had into drawers. I was going to have to do
some shopping in the morning. Tonight, I was just a guy having dinner after a particularly hard day at the office.

When I arrived at the diner, the morning waitress was getting ready to leave. She was joined by an older woman from the kitchen. I asked if they might give me some advice about the job board and who would be good for a receptionist. They looked at me hesitantly.

“I'll foot the bill for a meal here if you would help me out?” I said.

They looked at each other as if they were party to some kind of a joke that I knew nothing about.

“Mom, Dad is working late tonight,” the younger woman said. “It would be nice not to have to cook and to let someone else take care of the dishes for a change.”

Mother and daughter, that must have been the joke. I hoped the mother didn't see this as a come-on. The young woman was cute but she was about fifteen years too young for me.

“I'm straight about this,” I said, “I am working upstairs for a PI. The receptionist is gone and I need someone to fill in for a while. It's mostly answering the phone, taking messages, and maybe
some light typing. You can check with the local precinct.”

“We'll take you up on the dinner offer, Mr. ...” said the mother.

“Watcher, Jonas Watcher. Let's grab a booth and talk,” I said.

They picked a booth about midway back. It was well-lit and away from the front and kitchen doors. It was also fairly quiet. I made a mental note.

A waitress came over and handed us menus. “Betty, you eating here tonight with the kid? Who's the gent?”

“Al is always bragging about what a good cook he is," Betty said. "I figured I'd see for myself. This is Mr. Watcher. He works upstairs.”

“Oh yeah, the new shamus with Mickey Philips. A shame about Mickey, and the shooting up there. Were you involved, Mr. Watcher?”

“Maggie, really!”

“It's okay,” I said, “Mrs...”

“Just call me Betty, everyone does. And Shanna is my daughter.”

“Yeah, Maggie,” I said. “I was involved. I just don't like to advertise it. Lieutenant Sanders cleared me of any wrong-doing. The guy was a trigger-happy burglar, that's all.”

“Say, Maggie, how about tonight's special, I'll have coffee,” said Betty.

“The same for me, with coffee,” said Shanna.

“Make it three all around,” I said.

Maggie took the order to the window behind the counter and the three of us returned to our conversation.

“I took a look at the job board by the door. I saw some notes from women looking for work. I figured you might know who would best fit the bill for the office upstairs. It would start out as temporary, but it could become full time. To be honest, I'm not sure how to pick a receptionist.”

Maggie came back with coffees and hung for a bit until Betty indicated a couple coming through the door. Maggie was off to serve them.

“Why don't you apply, Mom?” said Shanna.

“Look, Shanna, I'm sure Mr. Watcher, is looking for someone a little younger.”

Shanna turned to me.

“Mom's cooking here is temp. She worked as a secretary for the police department for about five years before I came along. She has done some temp work for them. She knows everyone. She would love to get out of this diner.”

Betty interjected, “She means she would love for me to be out of this diner.”

“Lieutenant Sanders knows her,” said Shanna with a bit of a knowing look. “He would vouch for her.”

I looked at the two of them for a few moments. I didn't hear any laughing in the distance from the Fickle Sisters.

“I'll be honest, Betty, you are exactly what I’m looking for. I don't want a kid. The clientele may need a firm hand. If you're interested, let me know in the morning when I come in for breakfast.”

“What's it pay?” asked Shanna.

“Shirley Anna! What a question!” said Betty.

“Uh… Shirley Anna?” I asked.

“Her given name,” said Betty. “And what I call her when I really want to get her attention.”

“A young cousin couldn't quite say it properly," said Shanna. "It kept coming out wrong. Sometimes the words weren't appropriate in mixed company. Dad turned it into Shanna and I liked it, so I kept it.”

“Of course, there is that cute little girl in Hollywood, Shirley Temple...” said Betty.

“Mother. Please!”

I laughed. It was good to be in a normal family setting, even if it wasn't mine.

“Fifty bucks a week,” I said.

“Are you, serious?” asked Shanna. She turned to her mother, “Mom, you gotta say yes.”

“I'll think about it. We'll talk again in the morning, okay, Mr. Watcher?”

“Fair enough,” I replied, “Besides, our dinner is arriving.”

Maggie again took her time about serving, hoping to catch some conversation,
but it was all small talk and she soon lost interest. Al was a good cook, as far as I was concerned. Shanna indicated her mother was better, but Betty acknowledged that Al wasn't just bragging.
Meat, potatoes, vegetables, rolls, and apple pie for dessert made a pretty good meal.

The two women made good company. It was like being a regular Joe, it felt nice. We parted company just outside the door. I headed for my hotel and they headed for the bus. I remember thinking that Betty would make a good receptionist. She had a good head on her shoulders. While
I found her attractive, she had a hands-off attitude about her that I respected and could honor.

When I got to the residential hotel, I started up the stairs in the lobby, when a clerk called to me. I had a message.

Lieutenant Sanders had gotten the address for the local National office, along with a note that a Richard Hart would meet me there at two in the afternoon the next day. That worked well for me. My morning was going to be spent with ballistics, a gunsmith, and some specialized shopping at the local hardware store. I got into my room without any other incidents. When I closed and locked the door, I still jammed a chair under the doorknob. I pulled down the Murphy bed
and got undressed. I stretched and climbed in the bed for a good night's sleep. Twenty-four hours ago I had fallen into the bay and came out cold and soaking wet. Now I was drifting off to sleep in a
warm bed, and I didn't want a drink.

Continued...

Chapter 6 - A Receptionist and a Gun, Opened For Business